Bloodlines
by TellMeMore90
Summary: Emily is enjoying family life with husband Matt and son Gideon. But what of the family she left behind?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Primeval and its characters belong to Impossible Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N – There are many wonderful genealogy website and resources available on the internet. I have just selected a few of them for the purposes of the story, and amended the name where possible.**

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Emily was sitting in Matt's office using his PC to check her email. Despite having only lived in the 21st century for the last 5 years, she had a healthy address book and was a prolific email writer. In fact Matt sometimes had to curb her tendency to reply to anything in her inbox out of good manners. He'd once caught her trying to thank a Nigerian General for his kind offer of several million pounds and had been somewhat embarrassed when she replied to thank one company for their concern but she didn't require their excellent product as Matt was quite substantial enough for her requirements.

Matt had installed the best spam filter he could find on her email (and had Connor soup it up for added protection) and had to remind her regularly to check whether what she received was addressed to her personally or undisclosed-recipient. She was getting the hang of it, but it was slow work.

Matt walked in to his office to find Emily staring at the screen with a strange look on her face. Confused he walked behind her and, gently placing his hands on her shoulders, tried to discern what on the screen had caught her attention.

From what he could make out it was just her usual email home page with the advert boxes down the side. The top one was for the secret to losing 2 stone in 1 month, the next was for a new sonic toothbrush, the third for … ahh that was it.

"Matt, , what is that?" To be honest Matt didn't really know.

"I think it's one of those genealogy sites." Since his great-great-grandparents hadn't been born yet, genealogy wasn't something that interested him.

"Genealogy?"

"Yes, you know, family trees. Tracing your ancestors, finding their birth, marriage and death certificates, that sort of thing."

"You can do that?" Emily was becoming quite emotional. Her voice had a distinct catch in it when she'd asked that question.

"Yeah, sure, I think. And I think they have lots of other historical records online as well like newspapers and parish records, coroners reports, military service records, that sort of thing. In fact, I'm sure if we looked we'd find your birth records on there."

Emily's eyes were now shining with unshed tears. "My parents and my sisters and perhaps William, would they all be on there? Could I find out if I became an aunt again, whether Gideon perhaps has … had more cousins?"

"It's not really my area of expertise, but I don't see why not. Are you sure this is something you want to do though? You know that they are all long gone. I don't want it upsetting you." He spoke tenderly and gently caressed her arms. He wasn't sure if this particular can of worms was one he wanted to open.

Emily looked lovingly at him, her eyes still shining as a single tear began to fall down her cheek. "I think I do Matt, I want to know what became of my family."

Matt's heart melted. "Well alright then. Let's find out what we need to do to get started and take it from there. It's a popular subject so there's bound to be loads of information on how we do this and the best places for research. We'll do a search tonight once we've put Gideon down for the evening, we shouldn't be disturbed then."

By the end of that evening, Emily had signed up with Ancestor, found the LDS and EasyBMD websites and was busily trying to work out the National Library site. Matt had found a simple to do list to help the budding genealogist get started and was working out what could actually apply to them. Since the first task suggested starting from today and working backwards that would be a little tricky. What Emily needed to do was to start with herself and work forwards – she needed descendants not ancestors.

"Emily, it says here you should start by writing out all you know about your immediate family, names, dates, places, etc. Perhaps we should start with that."

"Very well. My grandfather was John Bradley and he was born in Jamaica. My father was also John Bradley and he was born in London in 1795. He married my mother, Elizabeth Earnshaw some ten years before my birth. My father's family were merchants and my mother's were in coal. I had two brothers and two sisters. William was the eldest born in 1835, then James born in 1839. My sister Mary was born in 1840, myself in 1842 and my younger sister Lizibet, sorry Elizabeth in 1845. My mother died in February 1867 … I think that was part of the reason my father forced me to marry Henry just three months later. My mother had hoped that we girls would be allowed to marry for love, but my father was more interested in improving his business opportunities. He failed with Mary, that was a love match – darling David. But I was an asset and he used me as such, not that it proved of any use to him in the end." She gave a look of grim satisfaction.

A sudden look of excitement illuminated her face. "Matt let's start by finding out what happened to me. Well, what they think happened to me … and Henry."

For all intents and purposes, she and Sir Henry Merchant had simply vanished from London in April 1868. It would be interesting to know what Society had made of this scandalous episode. Emily felt a tingle of titillation at the thought of having caused Henry's name to be linked with any kind of scandal and salacious gossip, especially after his rough treatment of her. The fact that he'd tried to have her committed to protect his reputation still caused her some disquiet.

Going to the National Archive site she quickly found the search for English newspaper articles. After a few failed attempts, one article suddenly appeared on the screen dated 20th April 1868.

'_TRAGIC INCIDENT IN LONDON. SPRING-HEELED JACK STRIKES AGAIN'_ the headline screamed. This was almost sensational for The Times in 1868. Emily couldn't contain her excitement and printed the article, hovering by the printer output tray waiting for the pages to finish appearing.

"Matt, Matt I've found it. Quick, come read."

Matt appeared from the kitchen carrying two cups of tea. He placed them on the coffee table and joined the excited Emily on the sofa to read Victorian England's take on Sir Henry being attacked by a raptor in a 21st Century art gallery after he'd just shot his wife. This was going to be interesting, although he wasn't sure how the now hyperactive Emily was going to take it.

'_Scotland Yard have now concluded their investigation into the tragic incident of April 10__th__ involving Sir Henry Merchant and Lady Emily Merchant. As our readers will recall, on that night in the vicinity of Limehouse the police were called after the notorious killer, Spring-Heeled Jack was reported in the area. A search quickly found Sir Henry's coach overturned and his driver dead, his throat viciously torn out. There was no sign of Sir Henry or his wife, acclaimed beauty Lady Emily, both of whom were believed to be travelling in the coach. It is understood Sir Henry had been visiting one of his properties in the area and was returning home. An extensive search of the area revealed no clue to the fate of the unhappy couple.'_

'_Detective Inspector Turnbull of Scotland Yard has now completed an exhaustive investigation and has presented his findings to the Coroner. An inquest will be held on 27__th__ April and will be reported in this publication.'_

'_In advance of the inquest, Detective Inspector Turnbull has shared his conclusions with this reporter. _"After an extensive search and painstaking inquiries I believe that I have established the events of that night and the tragic end of Sir Henry and Lady Merchant. We received reports at the Limehouse station that notorious killer Spring-Heeled Jack was in the area. Finding the coach overturned and the driver brutally slain we began an immediate search. It is my belief that Spring-Heeled Jack ambushed the coach and driver. The ferocity of the attack obviously scared the horse who, in its distress, reared and succeeded in overturning the coach before breaking free of its harness and bolting down the street. Sir Henry and Lady Merchant, deprived of their one source of protection from the dastardly killer were at his mercy. It is my contention that, in her terror, Lady Emily took flight towards the shelter of the warehouses and, his blood lust up, Spring-Heeled Jack pursued. Sir Henry Merchant also pursued in a gallant attempt to protect his wife. I fear that, having reached the docks Spring-Heeled Jack way-layed Lady Emily Merchant and brutally slayed her before the eyes of her horrified husband, then the villain turned his attentions to Sir Henry who was almost certainly too shocked by the horror he had witnessed to defend himself and was also brutally despatched by the murderer. I am in no doubt that the bodies were then disposed of in the Thames where they are unlikely to be found despite our searches. This is the report I have submitted to the Coroner and is, I believe the true interpretation of the facts as they are presented. " _A funeral service for the unhappy couple will take place St Mary Abbots parish church, Kensington on 23__rd__ day of April.'_

Matt glanced at Emily trying to read her emotions in her face. Her hands were shaking and she was staring at the page, it's edges almost ripping in the tightness of her grip.

Suddenly she exploded in rage "How dare they, how dare they say that!"

"Who say what? Emily, calm down, you'll wake Gideon. Emily, what's wrong. Talk to me please."

Emily was pacing the room waving the pages and clenching her fists, as angry as Matt had ever seen her.

"Please, darlin' tell me what's wrong. I don't understand. How dare they what?"

Looking at the page, Emily read the offending line. "_'_ _It is my contention that, in her terror, Lady Emily took flight towards the shelter of the warehouses.'_How dare that idiot detective say that. Anyone who knows me would never believe that I would run in terror from anything. The nerve of the man. I'll give him a thrashing, I'll have him horse-whipped, I'll have him demoted, the ridiculous buffoon. And to say it in print for all my friends to see. The shame of it. I will be a laughing stock throughout all polite society. How could such a reputable publication as The Times print such drivel. I shall write to the editor and demand a full retraction."

Matt could contain himself no longer, as he watched the irate Emily bemoaning something that happened over 150 years before. The laughter he was trying so desperately to hold in suddenly burst from him, reducing him to a quivering, giggling wreck.

"Darlin' please stop. It hurts, please." He lay on the sofa holding his ribs and in obvious pain.

Emily stopped her pacing and turned to stare at her husband as he lay, red faced on the sofa. "And what do you find so funny? You should be protecting my honour, not laughing at me like some, some imbecile."

"But Emily, precious, this all happened in 1868. Who exactly are you going to write to? Whatever anyone thought doesn't matter any more to anyone but you. I know it's rubbish, and you know it's rubbish, but really, what does it matter now?"

After a few moments and several deep breaths she calmed and settled on the sofa next to Matt. He had calmed enough now to sit up and draw his wife into a hug. "You are the bravest woman I know. Don't forget I was there, I saw it all. I know you didn't run from the raptor and that it was you that tried to protect Henry, not the other way round. " He rubbed her back and spoke in a soothing tone. "What's done is done. The point is that there was no scandal for your family and no further action was taken. The case was closed to everyone's satisfaction. Your family would have got the closure they needed and it sounds like they had an opportunity to say goodbye. Look, what was the name of the church where the service took place? Let's go there this weekend and see it. It might give you some closure too."

Emily agreed, calmed now that her initial anger had gone. "It was St Mary Abbott. It was our parish church and I was married from there. It will be interesting to see how it has changed over the years."

Matt sighed with relief. They had crossed the first hurdle, but this was going to be an emotional ride and Matt wasn't sure how the normally reserved Emily was going to take it. If this first evening was anything to go by it could be … interesting.

**tbc**


	2. Chapter 2

Emily had now discovered that, by searching on EasyBMD it was possible to identify possible birth, marriage and death certificates and to order them online. She had quickly identified all three of her own and, with a frisson of delight, ordered Henry's death certificate too. A quick check confirmed that their cause of death was indeed cited as murder and that a Coroner's Inquest had been held. She ordered a copy of that report too, but would have to wait a few weeks for it to arrive. In the mean time, the mischievous child in her heart was toying with the idea of hanging Henry's death certificate in the lavatory, although she suspected Matt would not approve.

What she hadn't counted on were the two incorrect birth certificates for two other Emily Bradleys born in the same general area of Buckinghamshire in the same quarter of the year as herself. This genealogy was a bit hit and miss, but at least she had the correct information now.

Her next task was to check the census returns and parish records to identify her parents' marriage records and the birth certificates of her siblings. As general registration did not become compulsory until late 1837, William would not have a certificate. Similarly there was unlikely to be any form of marriage certificate for her parents. Luckily she knew that her parents like herself had been married from St Mary Abbotts in Kensington so she knew which parish records to scrutinise.

She had already ordered the birth certificates for James, Mary and Elizabeth. Having been born after 1837 and with her father a law-abiding pillar of the community, their births were properly registered and recorded.

Emily now began to scour the online resources for parish records. These were not as well catalogued as birth certificates so it took her some little while to track down her parents' marriage on 20th December 1832. The information appeared to be a scan of the actual page from the parish record. This was wonderful as, for the first time in many years she saw the signatures of her parents.

She felt a sudden jolt of nostalgia for the mornings she had spent as a small child quietly playing with her doll whilst her mother dutifully answered all her correspondence, her pen scratching over the paper and then, intermittently tapping on the side of the silver ink well as she refilled it every couple of lines. That was why Emily felt a compulsion to answer every email sent to her – it connected her to her mother and her memories of that gracious woman. One day she would share this memory with Matt so he could perhaps understand and not become so exasperated at her habit.

Emily carefully saved a screenshot of the record page and then moved forward in her search.

She almost decided to jump forward to the 1835 records for when William was born, but for some reason she chose not to. Perhaps she wanted to see if any of the acquaintances from her married life were listed in those now ancient pages. She slowly scanned through each page. Occasionally she would come upon a name she recognised and would laugh or purse her lips at the memory it raised.

She had arrived at the entries for October 1833 when she abruptly halted. This had to be wrong, a mistake. There had to be another family called Bradley, after all she had certificates for two other Emily Bradleys, but that was in Buckinghamshire and this was Kensington. This just had to be wrong. But she knew instinctively that it wasn't and what she read on that page broke her heart. William, who she had always accepted as her eldest brother, wasn't. John and Elizabeth Bradley had another son, born in October 1833 and christened in the November of the same year. His name was John Robert. How had she not known? How had this been kept from her? What had become of him to wipe all knowledge of his existence from her life?

She feared the worst, that he had died in infancy and that was why she knew nothing of him. Now she scrutinized every page even more closely, not just looking at christenings and marriages, but now checking for funerals too.

She checked page after page until her wrist hurt from the repetitive mouse movements and her eyes were red raw from staring at the screen. After hours of back breaking exertion she now knew her parents' terrible secrets. Not only was John born in 1833 and her beloved William in 1835, there had been two more siblings born before her brother James in 1839. Daniel Bernard was born in 1836 and was buried just two months later, and Elizabeth Honoria was born in 1837 and was buried a mere nine months later.

Emily carefully saved a screenshot of each precious page - the only way she could honour her lost brothers and sister. Then she wept for them and the anguish of her parents. As a mother to Gideon she could only imagine the trauma her own mother must have suffered to have lost two babies so young and within two years of each other. But what of John? What had happened to John? She had still been unable to find any trace of him.

When Matt returned from the ARC he found an upset Gideon and a puffy eyed and very quiet Emily. She was going through the motions of caring for their son almost automatically and apparently switching from seeming unwilling to touch him to wanting to hold the bemused child in a vice like hug whilst kissing and stroking his head.

"Mammy keeps crying, Daddy. I tried to kiss her better like when I get a boo-boo. Please Daddy, what's wrong with Mammy? I'm scared. " His poor little boy looked at him with frightened pleading eyes, begging his Father to make his Mammy's hurt go away and to make everything all better.

Matt's heart nearly broke not only at his son's sadness, but also that he cared so much for his Mammy. All he could do was usher Gideon into bed giving him extra hugs, kisses and stories and promising that Mammy would be alright in the morning.

Now he had to deal with Emily. This was what he had been afraid of when she decided to investigate her family. She was so far removed from them by time that she could do nothing for them. Their lives were pages in a history book or in some digitised record on the internet. But for her the memories and emotions were still fresh. They were her family and she loved them, and something she had discovered was tearing her apart.

Emily was sat on the sofa, her head in her hands. He sat next to her rubbing her back and shoulders to ease the tension and trying to gently calm her.

"How is he? I didn't mean to frighten him, but the emotions were so overwhelming. I didn't know Matt. How could they have kept this from me? How did I not know?" Her voice was full of anguish and tears had again begun to fall.

"Gideon's fine, precious. Yes he's frightened because you're upset but he'll be OK. He just doesn't understand why. To be honest I don't understand why yet. Do you want to tell me what you found, what it was you didn't know?"

Emily handed Matt the pages from the parish records. The pages that documented the births of three older siblings she knew nothing about and the deaths of two of them.

Now he understood her strange behaviour. Now he was a parent himself he could relate to the anguish she was feeling. Also, he had lost his own baby sister when she was just eighteen months old. He understood the pain of losing a sibling, although at least he had known about her and shared her short life.

"Why didn't they tell me, and why can't I find John?"

"I suppose they wanted to forget it ever happened. You know grief gets some people that way, and from what little you've told me of your father I can't see him as the kind of man to allow wailing and gnashing of teeth. What good would it have done any of you to know that you had two siblings that died in infancy before you were born? William was probably too young to even remember." Matt remembered his own mother sinking deeper into despair after the death of his sister until she finally took her own life in 2122.

Emily looked at him with understanding. "Yes, I suppose you're right. My father wouldn't have allowed anything other than the exact length of mourning stipulated as proper by Society. And no unpleasant shows of emotion would have been allowed. It must have nearly killed my poor mother." She thought of the lovely, gentle woman she so admired and how she used to look at her children with wistful sadness, especially on birthdays and at Christmas. Suddenly those strange moments that she had never understood made sense. At that moment she felt closer to her mother than ever.

"But Matt, what of John? Why can't I find John? The records say he was born in 1833, but there is no record of him dying before 1839. Oh god, what if there was something wrong with him and he was sent away, or committed. Oh Matt, I couldn't bear that."

Matt soothed her as best he could. After her experiences with Henry he could understand her fear. Bedlam was no place of safety and for a small child it would have been akin to a living hell. "Don't jump to conclusions, darlin'. All we know is that he's not in the parish records for St Mary Abbotts. Anyway, hadn't your family moved to Buckinghamshire by then? You've got far enough forward for his death to have been registered. Let's check EasyBMD and see if there is a death certificate."

A search soon showed five death certificates for John Bradleys in the decade from 1837 to 1847. If anything had happened to him, it would have to have been before Emily could have any lasting memory of him and, as she was born in 1842, 1847 seemed a reasonable timescale. All five records were ordered online.

"Now we wait." Emily knew there was nothing to be done until the certificates arrived. With luck one would be for her missing older brother. His death would be infinitely preferable to the other possibilities that swam round her mind.

-0-0-0-

The next few days were almost unbearable for Emily. Matt had arranged for a brief leave of absence from the ARC for her. She was so distracted it would have been dangerous to have her anywhere near the place, not that he was much better. He'd already managed to kill half of a batch of rare _Cornus piggae _plant specimens from the Paleocene period by pouring bleach onto them instead of growing solution.

He didn't dare go into the field on the one anomaly alert that week, and had persuaded Becker that it was best if he stayed behind. As it was there was no incursion and it was a straight forward closure and clean-up operation, but the mere fact that he felt unable to attend and had left the team short-handed sat badly with him.

It was Thursday evening when he arrived home to find Emily feeding Gideon and a large brown envelope sitting prominently on the kitchen table.

"They've arrived?"

"So it would seem."

"You've not opened them?"

"I thought that would be unwise until you returned, given the … situation last time."

Matt leaned over and kissed his wife on the temple with great tenderness. "I always knew you were an incredibly wise woman." Then he turned his attention to greeting and laughing with his son, taking over cleaning his face and hands from where he had just finished his tea.

Picking Gideon up, he carried him to the living room rug to play with fire trucks and dinosaurs whilst Emily cleared the kitchen in preparation for their own supper.

After Gideon had gone to bed, they sat in the kitchen, eating the meal Emily had prepared. Matt marvelled at what an excellent cook she had become since her arrival in the modern world with no appreciable culinary skills at all, except excellent knife work and an unusual line in tree creeper stew. As they ate, the envelope lay at the other end of the table. Every so often one of them would glance at it, but neither broached the subject.

They finished their meal and Emily tidied the dishes into the dishwasher whilst Matt made cups of tea (they had compromised on the appropriate crockery for tea and found some cheerful bone china mugs which satisfied both of them). As Matt led Emily through to the living room sofa, he picked up the envelope, tucking it under his arm.

"OK, let see what we can find. Are you ready for this darlin'?"

"Yes" Emily bit her lip and twisted her fingers together in her lap. "I need to know."

Matt tore open the envelope and took out the six death certificates. Elizabeth had been born in early 1837 when there was no registration, but had lived long enough for her death to be registered. She had died aged nine months from diarrhoea.

"Oh, no Matt! Poor baby!"

Emily's hand had flown to her mouth as she'd read the words. Both she and Matt came from worlds where this illness, so innocuous in 21st century Britain with its plentiful clean water, was a killer, especially amongst the young, old and weak. Even so, it was a shock.

Perhaps this explained her Mother's hatred of London and her refusal to ever return. Maybe the clean air and water of the countryside were what drove her insistence on long bracing walks and lots of outdoor pursuits. Emily remembered her mother's fondness for "clean air to make you strong." Unknowingly, her mother's obsession had prepared Emily well to survive through the anomaly, creating a strong, vigorous young woman well used to the outdoors instead of a feeble shrinking violet.

Matt wrapped his arm around Emily's shoulders and gave her a gentle hug, before turning his attention to the remaining five certificates. It was the fourth in the pile that proved pertinent.

"John Robert Bradley, born 27th October 1833 in Kensington. Died 5th January 1843 aged 9 years. It says he fell through the ice whilst skating. It was an accident."

"Oh Matt, I was only seven months old. No wonder I have no memory of him. Oh my poor mother." Whilst she felt grief for her lost brother and sorrow for the pain her mother must have felt to lose another child through a foolish accident, compared to the horrors she had imagined for him, this was almost a relief.

The family had moved to Buckinghamshire shortly before James's birth in 1839, it was likely that John was buried at the parish church there. His death certificate stated that he had died on their Hartstone Estate in Buckinghamshire.

"Please Matt. Can we go there this weekend? I would like to try to find his grave and maybe lay flowers. It would ease my mind to say both hello and goodbye to the elder brother I never knew, but who I love none the less. And perhaps my mother will be there too. She died in 1867 and I would like to let her know I am well. The information I have gathered this last week has given me a new appreciation of her strength and a renewed closeness to her."

"Then this was no bad thing, despite the heart ache. It's good to know where you got your strength and tenacity from." Matt smiled tenderly at his wife. She seemed to have accepted this new information about her family and become comfortable with it.

"I'm not expected on call this weekend so why don't we go? I'd love to see where you grew up. I wonder if Hartstone House is still there? It would be interesting to look around."

"It is. I looked it up. It is now a golf and country club with excellent leisure facilities. Perhaps we should book a room and stay overnight. That might prove … interesting."

"Alright, we will. But promise me you won't berate the staff for changing the wallpaper." He tried to look stern but only succeeded in smirking.

"Very well, but if they have damaged the plasterwork there will be hell to pay. The ceilings were by Joseph Cortese." Then she laughed and the tensions of the last few days disappeared.

Perhaps this genealogy thing wasn't so bad after all.

**tbc**

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**Oh my that was a bit angsty. I know where I want to end up with this story, but I'm not entirely sure how I'll get there at the moment because Conby keeps popping into my head distracting me. Let me know what you think, I'd love to hear from you.**


	3. Chapter 3

Emily spent her spare time over the next six months investigating birth, marriage and death records and the census returns to piece together the lives of her siblings. Being the second youngest child she already knew that William, James and Mary had all married. At the time she finally left in 1868, William and Charlotte had one son, John, whilst Mary and David had three sons, David, Peter and Henry. Elizabeth was still single although Emily felt certain that her father would have rectified that situation fairly quickly.

Her older brother, James, had married a lovely lady called Sarah Collins in 1861. However, James was in the army based in Africa and had been killed in the 2nd Anglo-Ashanti war in 1863 in an area that was now called Ghana. They had no children. Sarah had gone on to marry a vicar and moved to his parish in Somerset shortly before Emily's own wedding.

Digging through the records, Emily discovered that her sister Mary had finally had a daughter in 1869 who she had named Emily Jane. Emily was so happy, knowing that Mary had always secretly craved a daughter. William and Charlotte had four further children, Elizabeth (1870), George (1874), Victoria (1876) and finally Albert (1879).

Her younger sister, Elizabeth, had married Sir William Bennett in July of 1868. Being so soon after her own 'murder' it confirmed that there was no scandal attached to her 'death' and no blemish on her own family's character which was a relief. She could not have borne being responsible for any hardship for them.

Emily sincerely hoped that Sir William was a good man and that Lizibet had found love, but knew that her father would no doubt have benefitted financially from the match. Given that Sir William Bennett was some twenty-five years her senior, Emily suspected the marriage had more to do with money and position than love. Lizibet and William had three children, William in 1869, Elizabeth in 1872 and Albert in 1880. Following their lives, Emily found that Elizabeth became a missionary and spent her adult life working with the poor and destitute in Calcutta, India. She became one of the first lay workers to help a strange little nun called Mother Theresa, and died in the mission in 1954.

William inherited his father's estates after Sir Williams' death in 1888 and did rather well in finance, whilst Albert became a Major in the British Army. He had two daughters, Rosemary and Bridget, and was killed on 24th May 1915 at a battle called Ypres.

But what of Emily's father – his death certificate informed her that he had died at Hartstone House in October 1869 of apoplexy. Emily felt a twinge of sadness but little else for the man who had forced her into a loveless marriage, although it had led to her current happy situation. She would not have missed out on Matt or Gideon for the world, and if the test she had carried out that morning was anything to go by, they would be expecting another addition to their family in about eight months' time. She couldn't wait to tell Matt the happy news.

-0-0-0-

Time rolled on and Emily kept digging and growing her family tree, as her own child grew inside her.

One evening Matt was watching 'Toy Story' with Gideon for what felt like the hundredth time whilst Emily carried on her investigations. She was relentless. She was currently following her sister Mary's children. She had discovered that Peter (born 1864) had become a diplomat. Emily felt such pride that a nephew of hers could have such an auspicious career. She read news reports and court circulars tracking his career. She found that he had been assigned to the British Embassy in Moscow as Counsellor to the Ambassador in 1899. She felt a swell of pride at his achievements.

Emily began searching newspaper reports to see if Peter Gibson featured in any reports or articles. It was in the Times that she found reports of attendance at balls and meetings with the Tsar. And then she found the final reports. Matt looked up sharply at Emily's exclamation of distress.

"Oh. No, no, no! How could he have been responsible? How could he?"

"Emily, what's the matter?"

"It's Ethan!" Matt's blood ran cold at the mere mention of his name. Ethan who had tried, at various times, to kill Becker, Emily and himself. Ethan who had disappeared through an anomaly with his brother, Danny in tow. Ethan the psychopathic killer. How had he touched Emily's life this time?

"What's Ethan? What's he done now?"

"Not now, then. He killed my nephew in Moscow. He killed Peter!" and Emily began to sob.

Matt came over and looked at the article from the Times for July 1902 as it appeared on the screen, massaging Emily's shoulders as he did so. There had been an explosion outside the British Embassy believed to be the work of the anarchist Ethan Dobrowski. Five people were killed including a soldier on guard at the gate and the Counsellor, Peter Gibson who was just exiting the gate by coach. The driver of the coach was badly injured, three passers-by were killed including a child and twelve were injured.

All Matt could do was hiss "Ethan" and shake his head. Reaching for his wife he held her tight and kissed her head whilst whispering words of comfort.

Later that evening Emily lay in bed, comforted by Matt's arms wrapped around her. Matt had put Gideon to bed earlier whilst Emily soaked in the bath to calm herself. She had so many questions that would never be answered. Now she lay, warm and comforted, listening to the steady rhythm of her husband's heart.

"Do you think he knew, when he met me, that he had killed my nephew?"

"I doubt if he knew the names of any of the people he killed. I very much doubt that he associated a diplomat called Gibson with Lady Emily Merchant even if he did know Peter's name – why should he? No I don't think he knew."

"It's just so strange. Those years I spent travelling with him. I always knew he was … wrong. What would I have done had I known? Would I have killed him or tried to punish him in some way?"

"But you didn't know, you couldn't know. And for that I'm glad. If you had known, what would it have done to you? How might that knowledge have changed everything?" He gently rubbed her swollen belly as he spoke and counted his blessings that she had never known the truth of what Ethan had done.

"You're right, I know, but it will play on my mind. I hope I never meet Ethan again, I fear I would not be responsible for my actions."

-0-0-0-

Emily continued in her quest to clarify her family tree. What she was finding warmed her heart and made her so proud of her family.

William's oldest son John who she remembered as a quiet baby, had become a vicar. He, like his cousin, seemed to enjoy working with the poor and misbegotten and was, like his grandmother, a prolific letter writer if the newspapers of the time were anything to go by. He was constantly exposing the deprivations of the East End, the appalling treatment of the insane and the lack of rehabilitation in the prison system for criminals. He fought tooth and nail for the under-privileged and immigrant populations. He had started several homes for un-wed mothers and orphans, raising funds through public subscription. He died in an outbreak of influenza in the East End in 1921, never leaving his parishioners and caring tirelessly for the sick. Emily felt so proud.

Albert, William's youngest son, had married and had two sons, William and Robert. He was a career soldier holding the rank of Captain at the outbreak of the First World War. He was killed at St Julien on 29th April 1915. His body was never found.

Emily marvelled at the coincidences her research was producing. Two nephew's called Albert both dying within days of each other, and one nephew murdered by Ethan Dobrowski. Her researches showed that Captain Albert Bradley and Major Albert Bennett were serving in different regiments, but she wondered if they had met, or whether they knew that they were cousins. She would never know now.

Emily wondered what had happened to Albert's two sons. Born in 1911 and 1914, neither had married and both had fought in WWII. William was, like his father, a career soldier and had died in January 1941 at a battle near Tobruk in Africa. Robert had become an engineer and had worked extensively in the United States building things called 'sky scrapers', but had joined the Royal Air Force, Bomber Command as a Middle Upper Gunner at the outbreak of war. He was killed in 1943 returning from a bombing raid over Berlin in Germany.

Whilst sad that their lives had ended so violently, Emily felt immensely proud that so many of her family had served in defence of the Empire and its people. And now she was carrying on that tradition of service, protecting the public from anomalies and the creatures that came through.

* * *

**I love genealogy so I've had great fun pulling this together, imagining Emily's family tree and how she must feel. I've had moments doing my own where I've welled up over long dead ancestors. But what about you? Is this OK or too dry?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N – there are brief references to another of my stories 'Parenthood'. You do not need to have read it to understand this chapter.**

* * *

She had been accumulating copious amounts of information about her family, filing it carefully away and making sure she had her references and citations, exactly as all the genealogy guides recommended. Then it struck Emily, she had nephews who died in World War One, great nephews who died in World War Two, and she had discovered her niece, darling Mary's little girl Emily who had been named after her, had been killed in something called The Blitz, but Emily had no understanding of what these events were. Obviously the World War part was an indicator, but who were the protagonists and how had the whole world gone to war?

Emily decided that she really needed to start filling in some of the gaps in her knowledge of modern world history. What exactly had happened between her leaving the world and her return? Abby had suggested that something called the Open University might be able to help. When she discovered that she could actually take a degree and become a university graduate Emily was delighted. She decided to pursue this once she'd finished her family tree, and when time allowed (a curious phrase under the circumstances she mused.)

She was struggling with the females in her family. Tracking the males was relatively easy, but the women changed their maiden names so finding marriage certificates was essential, and locating children became increasingly hard after 1911 without the benefit of census records. Working for the Government had to have some benefits so she approached James Lester for help.

"It might be tricky Emily, but leave it with me. It's a different department, but I'll see what I can do. I should at least be able to get you special access to the National Archive which should help answer some of your questions. In fact, I'll have a word with the Director, he owes me a favour. I'll see if I can get you access to a researcher to help you track down what you need – an inside connection is always useful."

"Thank you James. You are a dear, kind man."

Lester blushed slightly before smoothing his hair and saying sharply "Don't you dare tell anyone else that. I have my reputation to think of." Then he gave her a coy smile and escorted her to his door, holding it open for her and ushering her through. "Leave it with me."

-0-0-0-

One of the many new experiences for Emily was the recent General Election. Something called an Electoral Roll registration had popped through their letterbox the previous year asking them to list all the residents over 18 years at their address. Neither Matt nor Emily had ever had the ability to vote in their previous lives, and even in the years Matt had spent in the 21st Century, he'd avoided registering in case it caused unnecessary interest in unwanted quarters. Now that they were both officially citizens of the United Kingdom, Lester had strongly recommended that they register on the Electoral Roll.

Entering the polling station was a remarkable experience for Emily. As a Victorian lady, such power, to be able to help select the government of the day, was awe inspiring. In her time only a few wealthy men were able to decide such things and even having a political opinion was seen as unseemly for a lady. For Emily to vote was simply incredible, and almost anyone aged 18 years and over could do it. She was astounded, and even more so that people treated this gift so casually, almost disdainfully.

Emily wanted to know when and why this remarkable thing had happened. She began digging through the newspaper reports. She'd heard whispers of dissent amongst some ladies in her own circle shortly after her marriage, but events had conspired to prevent her from learning more at the time. She now found that the vote had been given to all including women in 1928, but had been given to women over the age of 30 in 1918 after many years of protest and struggle by ladies not unlike herself. She hoped that, had her situation been different, she would have helped in that struggle for women's suffrage.

She read of Emmeline, Christabel and Sylvia Pankhurst, the hunger strikes, the barbaric behaviour of the police, the incarceration and forced feeding and Emily Davison who was trampled by the King's horse at the Epsom Derby. Going back further she read of Elizabeth Garrett Anderson, the first woman to gain a medical qualification in England and the first women to be elected as a town mayor. Emily liked the sound of her, and she was an Anderson. Emily felt a certain kinship with this woman.

Elizabeth's sister was Millicent Fawcett who formed the National Union of Women's Suffrage Societies in 1897. The Pankhurst ladies had been early activists within the group. They protested and campaigned, much to the annoyance of Victorian Society and, no doubt their husbands, as the members were exclusively ladies from the upper classes – the lower classes were too busy feeding their families to have the time to spend on such interests.

Fascinated, Emily delved deeper. These were women she could understand. Women from her own class and generation who were striving for independence, a modicum of power, and recognition of their worth. It was whilst digging through reports and articles that one name stood out – Lady Elizabeth Bennett.

Lizibet! Her darling Lizibet had been actively involved with Millicent Fawcett from the start. She must have known Elizabeth Anderson and Emmeline Pankhurst. She had fought for the privilege that her sister had so recently enjoyed. Emily felt so much pride and love for her sister, she could barely contain herself. Her tears flowed freely as she thought of her dear, sweet baby sister, so young when Emily had left to marry Henry. And yet she had obviously become a strong and forceful woman. Emily knew that Lizibet had died in February 1918 so had never lived to see her dream of votes for women realised and that gave her a pang of sadness, but her pride in her sister was undiminished.

As she dug through the articles she found a portrait of several middle aged women obviously dressed in a later fashion than she was used to. It was of Millicent Fawcett and the executive of the NUWSS shortly after its formation. There, staring at her, her face grimly determined but her eyes shining, was Lizibet. Considerably older than the girl Emily remembered, but still her beloved baby sister.

Emily carefully saved the best quality version of the image she could find and determined to ask Connor or Jess if they could improve it sufficiently for it to be framed. It was the first image of any member of her immediate family she had found and that made it infinitely precious. She would delight in showing Gideon and his baby sister (she now knew she was carrying a girl) exactly what their Aunty Lizibet looked like.

-0-0-0-

Emily's investigations of her family ceased early in July when little Elizabeth Julia Anderson forced her way, kicking and screaming, into the world. As Matt observed "Like mother, like daughter!", but once she had been introduced to her parents and had settled on her mother's breast, she became peaceful and quiet. In fact little Lizibet proved a remarkably even tempered baby.

Technically, she was named after her two Grandmothers, Elizabeth Bradley and Julia Anderson, but her pet name, Lizibet, was for Emily's baby sister. Matt was delighted to honour such precious women by naming his equally precious daughter after them.

As she was so peaceful a child, and as Gideon had now started school, Emily felt that she could continue her investigations in the short spells of free time she could garner.

Emily had found so many children and, with the invaluable assistance of Michael, her contact at the National Archives, had information about so many of their life stories. There were doctors and teachers, lawyers and financiers, and amongst the women in her family she was delighted to note an Oxford Don, a doctor and a highly successful businesswoman. She had also found that her great niece Bridget Bennett, daughter of Major Albert Bennett, had been a pilot in the Air Transport Auxiliary during WWII delivering aircraft to the RAF all over the British Isles, United States and Canada. She had even been shot down twice, but had survived the war and had continued to fly light aircraft until a decade before her death in 1982. One of the documents emblazoned Top Secret named Bridget as the pilot for someone called Winston Churchill.

-0-0-0-

She had been investigating the descendants of her older brother William and was currently working on middle son George Bradley's children.

George had died in 1941 of simple old age. He had three children, John born in 1897 (it seemed to be a tradition to call the oldest son John. Emily was glad their eldest son was Gideon John and not the other way round), Matthew was born in 1901 and Mary in 1905. Unfortunately Matthew had died in 1919 of influenza, apparently as had many others – a pandemic by all accounts.

John had four children, and Mary three. It was Mary's branch of the family tree that Emily was currently focussed upon.

Mary had married Peregrine Thompson in 1927. He was a solicitor with a successful career of no outstanding merit and they had lived a quiet and apparently happy life in Guildford. Patricia was born in 1930, Sarah in 1934 and James in 1939. All three children had gone to Cambridge. James became a solicitor like his father, but unlike his father he made a name for himself working cases others wouldn't touch. He was known for defending 'social agitators' such as CND campaigners, animal rights protestors and gay rights activists. He did not have a profitable career, but to Emily's mind it was a highly creditable one.

Sarah and Patricia took the usual route open to female university graduates of their generation and became teachers. Both married and had families.

Emily's National Archive contact, Michael, had provided her with all the latest electoral roll and census information amongst other documents, and Emily had located marriage and birth certificates.

Partricia Thompson had married David Lester in 1956.

Alarm bells began to ring in Emily's mind. She knew she had seen the name Peregrine before and now she knew where. The information she held in her hand only confirmed it.

Patricia and David Lester had three children, Rachel born 1959, Natalie born 1962 and James Peregrine Lester born 1966.

James's full biography lay before her. Obviously Michael had not been told by the Director who had requested he help Emily, so he had no idea of the significance of the biographical information he had provided.

James Peregrine Lester born 1966, graduated Cambridge with a double first in history, joined the Army, graduated Sandhurst and saw active service in the first Gulf war before the newly promoted Captain Lester served as adjutant to a Colonel Becker (another alarm bell rang in Emily's mind). Joined the Civil Service acting as a 'special advisor' for the Prime Minister's office – a Government trouble-shooter without portfolio. Current position, unknown.

Emily knew exactly his current position, and once he knew she knew she felt that position would be very angry.

Luckily, Lizibet woke at that moment for her feed. Emily was distracted from her contemplations as she cared for her daughter, and then began the afternoon schedule for collecting and caring for her son.

-0-0-0-

Matt had noticed how distracted Emily was that evening. She had even cut her finger whilst preparing the vegetables for their evening meal. Emily NEVER cut herself. Matt knew something major had occurred, but as the children seemed happy and healthy, he felt it best to let her come to him when she was ready.

That time arrived part way through the 10 o'clock news.

"Matt, I have discovered something disconcerting."

His heart immediately flew into his throat. He was not one for flights of fancy, but Emily was not one for overstatement. In her terminology 'disconcerting' could well mean 'disastrous', 'catastrophic' or 'terminal' – please, not that!

"Precious, in what way disconcerting? What have you found?" He tried to keep the fear out of his voice.

Emily could think of no appropriate way to phrase this other than to simply state it. "James Lester, our esteemed Director, is my great great great nephew."

Matt laughed.

It was the relief that had caused it, but that cut no ice with Emily. She had something important to tell him, something that had unnerved her and he was laughing.

Seeing anger begin to flare in her eyes, Matt calmed himself and apologised for his outburst. "I'm sorry darlin'. It's just when you said you had discovered something disconcerting I was imagining all sorts of terrible things. To find out that James Lester is your nephew … "

"Great great great nephew."

"Yeah, great great great nephew, is actually a considerable relief."

"Very well. I shall forgive you. I did not mean to cause you disquiet. Now, what am I to do about this? I have considered keeping the information to myself, but I fear I am not skilled at subterfuge."

"I think your best bet is to arrange an appointment in his office and just tell him. No-one else needs to know, and he can decide how he wants to play it. Knowing him he'll huff a bit and make some sarcastic comment before banning you from ever mentioning it again – to anyone – ever. Oh and he'll probably threaten imprisonment."

"Very well, if you feel that is best. I have to arrange an appointment to see him soon anyway to discuss my return to work. I shall raise the matter then."

-0-0-0-

A week later, Emily sat next to Lester on the sofa in his office. Unusually, Lester had arranged for earl grey tea in bone china cups and biscuits to be available. Emily appreciated this gesture.

They discussed how Gideon and especially Lizibet were progressing. As a father himself, James liked to keep informed about his team's offspring. He saw them as part of his own family although he would never let them know that, well, not until they saw the video he had recorded for their children.

They briefly discussed her return to work. As she had already been part-time for several years following the birth of Gideon, there was little change in her work schedule. Her main duties had been to assist Matt in his biology lab, and to assist Abby in the menagerie. She had proven to be an excellent and methodical lab assistant and her insights had proven invaluable.

"So, Emily, now that we have sorted everything out, is there anything else you wish to discuss?" He looked at her almost expectantly.

Emily studied his face and quirked her eyebrow. "You know!"

"Yes, I know."

"For how long?"

"Before you returned the second time."

"But how? How could you have known I would return? The newspaper article said I had died in 1870 in an insane asylum."

"I didn't know for certain, but who do you think fed that article to Abby, knowing full well she would pass it to Matt? It would have made no appreciable difference to my own existence if you came back or died in 1870, but I rather hoped that, if the opportunity arose, Matt would see sense and bring my three times great aunt back to me." A gentle and affectionate smile was playing upon his lips. "Of course, had I known that Matt was actually an agent from the future, I might have been a little less obliging."

They both smiled.

"So you are happy with this … situation?"

"Yes, I'm happy. I've had a long time to get used to it. After all, it was me that arranged for you to have access to a researcher at the National Archive, one of our best I might add. And of course, your receiving my own personal biography was no accident. Didn't you notice it was considerably more detailed than was entirely necessary?"

"So you arranged this?"

"Yes. You are my family. What else could I do?"

Emily thought for a moment. "So, how do we proceed?"

"I was wondering if you, Matt and the children would like to come over this weekend? It would probably do Gideon and Lizibet good to finally meet some cousins, however many times removed. And I would love for Rosemary to meet my Aunt and, oh lord, it makes Matt my three times great uncle – for heaven's sake don't tell him!"

"I won't. Although he may work it out for himself."

"And under absolutely no circumstances are you EVER to tell Connor." Emily smiled at James's outburst. "I wouldn't dream of it."

A look of puzzlement clouded her features. "James, the Colonel Becker you served under, is that any relation to …?"

"Yes, his father. He retired a Major General and is a grand old man. I owe him a lot. Perhaps you'll meet him one day. You'd like him, he's a very proper old school military man, but for all his bluster has a heart of gold and a razor sharp intellect. And Becker is the apple of his eye, although Jess, Diana and Abigail are running him a close second."

Emily smiled. She liked this side of James – the caring family man. It was a side he rarely showed, but she had suspected was always there.

"Well, if that's all I suppose I'd best let you get back to your children … Aunty." James smirked and Emily winced before lightly smacking his arm and grinning herself.

"Very well, Nephew. I'm so very glad I've finally met a member of my family. I feared I would never see them. It is not as if I can approach any of the current generation and introduce myself. I have a solitary photograph of my sister Lizibet, but that is all."

"Don't worry, when you come round I have a whole disk of family photos and portraits prepared for you. Great great grandma Charlotte was apparently something of an archivist and also one of the early practitioners of photography. It looks like she snapped anyone and anything."

Emily remembered Charlotte fondly, always filing her correspondence neatly away and her passion for the latest inventions. It was strange to hear someone else talk of her with such affection.

"It was a passion she passed on to great grandad George, so we have loads of family pictures to keep you happy, and a few family letters. And perhaps you would like your mother's journal? I can think of no better place for it ..."

Emily felt the tears sting her eyes as she smiled at James and hugged him tightly. "Oh thank you, that would be wonderful."

Suddenly conscious that they were now stood outside his office in full sight of the Hub, James suddenly became James Lester, ARC Director again, gently patting Emily on the back, and mouthing "hormones" at a passing soldier who was giving them a quizzical look. "There, there. Off you go back to the baby." He said, rather more loudly than was necessary.

Wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, Emily too came back to herself. "Thank you James. Goodbye for now. I shall see you … presently." She then mouthed "Thank you Nephew", gave him a gentle and loving smile that could only be bestowed by a doting aunt upon a favourite nephew, turned on her heel and left to pick up Gideon from school and Lizibet from the child minder.

James watched her leave, smiling gently to himself before returning to his office and pouring a glass of whisky.

Family, who'd have 'em? Well he would and he loved it.

**THE END**

* * *

**Well, there it is. I hope that you enjoyed and didn't find it too convoluted. If you liked I'd love to know.**


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